


Take me, take me; promise not to wake me

by SmittyJaws



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 09:48:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmittyJaws/pseuds/SmittyJaws
Summary: Requested byClaraCivry. Prompt: “Wake up! Please wake up" with either hurt Brian orhurt Roger.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	Take me, take me; promise not to wake me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/gifts).

> Thank you ClaraCivry for the prompt, and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post it! Thanks for being my first and 50th fics in the Queen fandom.
> 
> Set in no specific AU or era, so imagine whatever you’d like!

His head hurt. Why did his head hurt? As he regained more awareness of his surroundings, he became aware that it wasn’t just his head that hurt - everything hurt. Well, maybe everything was a stretch, but it definitely would have taken him less time to categorize what didn’t hurt, rather than what did.

He also became aware of a voice above him, sounding concerned. It was muffled and he couldn’t make it out at first, but eventually, it faded into full clarity as well: “-wake up! Please wake up!”

He attempted to move, or make some kind of sound to signal that he’d heard them; that he was waking up, but neither his body nor his vocal cords seemed to want to cooperate with him at the moment, and the person above him only sounded more and more frantic as time went on. “Brian, please! You’ve got to wake up!”

Brian. That was a nice name. Was it his? It must have been if this person was directing their concern towards him. He tried again to move and must have managed to shift something, as the voice sounded pleased. “I saw him move! I think he’s waking up!”

Another voice was heard nearby. “You sure, Rog? Might have just been a trick of the light.”

“Wasn’t a trick,” the first voice - presumably Rog - responded. “I definitely saw his leg move.”

“Regardless of whether he’s regaining consciousness or not, you’ll need to get out of the way once the ambulance arrives,” the second voice said.

“And have him wake up to unfamiliar faces and surroundings?” Rog scoffed. “Not bloody likely. I’m staying put.”

“You need to let them do their jobs. That’s what they’re trained to help with.” The voice was placating. Brian wished the two of them would stop arguing, though, as it was making his head ache more than it already did. He tried to speak, to ask them to stop, but all that came out was a groan of pain.

In response to that, he heard Rog’s voice move closer. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’ll be alright. The ambulance will be here soon, and they’ll be able to help. They’ll give you the good stuff and you won’t be in pain.”

Brian groaned again and tried to open his eyes, but only managed to crack them open slightly before having to shut them again. Everything was much too bright and it made his head hurt again. Still, he heard Rog exclaiming excitedly to the second person about how he’d done so and it must be a good sign? Everything was still so loud, though. Why couldn’t everyone just stop talking and leave him be?

He tried to say so, but all that came out was a rough whisper of something that sounded like “st’p t’lkin’”. He didn’t know how audible he’d actually been, but apparently Rog had understood him, as he’d drastically lowered the volume of his voice. 

Slowly the pain faded to a more manageable level, and the next time Brian tried, he managed to get his eyes open to see someone sitting beside him with a concerned look on his face. It took him a moment longer than he’d like to admit to recall the name of the man, but when it came back, he felt a distinct wave of relief that his memory wasn’t gone. However, he still had some information gaps. “R’g? W’h’ppn’d?”

He had no clue how on earth Roger understood a word of what he’d said, but somehow the blond managed to interpret his half-mumbled question. “Misplaced pyro,” he said, shaking his head. “Fred tried to wave you away so you wouldn’t get hit, but apparently you weren’t far enough and got caught in the blast. Toppled you off the stage.”

“Oh.” Brian closed his eyes and tried to recall that series of events, but found himself drawing a blank. “D’nt r’member th’t.”

“I’d be impressed if you did.” There was a small smirk on Roger’s face, though the ever-present look of concern didn’t fade. “Knocked your head around a bit on the way down; wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got a nasty concussion.”

“Mm. Prob’ly.”

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, while Roger kept giving Brian sideways glances. If he’d had the energy to do so, Brian probably would have bristled under the mother-henning, but as it was, he was more focused on attempting to keep from moving too much and hope that the pounding in his head would subside.

Soon, Brian heard footsteps approaching him purposefully and voices discussing his situation. He winced at the volume, and Roger must have made some gesture to tell them to watch the noise, as they quieted down shortly afterward. He saw someone unfamiliar crouching down next to him to examine him, and heard Roger arguing with another person somewhere off to the side about being told to stay back, but most of the next little while was a blur of questions, a shock blanket being placed on him, and various pokes and prods all over his body to determine if he’d broken anything.

Once it had been determined that yes, he was concussed and should be monitored over the next few hours, and no, nothing was broken, just bruised, Brian was finally allowed to be moved over to a chair that someone had thoughtfully placed close by. After giving Roger instructions as to what to do if Brian’s concussion worsened, the paramedics left, leaving Brian and Roger sitting in silence again.

Brian idly wondered where John and Freddie had gotten to, but any movement to try and look for them only aggravated the throbbing behind his temples and he gave up the search. As if reading his mind, Roger leaned in and muttered: “Enjoy the quiet while you can, Bri. Freddie’s been off complaining to whoever’ll listen about the unsafe conditions. Deaky’s been attempting to calm him down, but I know he’s upset too. Whoever set up the stage was careless.”

Sure enough, immediately after saying that, the doorway was filled with a brightly-coloured flurry of movement as Freddie burst into the room, John trailing close behind. Roger had to warn him about the volume of his voice, but after that, the three of them began a hushed conversation nearby about what to do about the stagehands and preventing accidents in future. They asked Brian for input periodically, but he didn’t have a lot to add at the moment.

His head and body still ached (and most likely would for a while), but content in the knowledge that they were all alright and he wasn’t injured too seriously, Brian allowed himself to drift off to sleep, surrounded by his bandmates.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also @smittyjaws on Tumblr, if you want to hit up my dumpster fire of a blog!


End file.
